


Wardrobe

by ThePraxianWeasleyGeek



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, One-Shot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/pseuds/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek
Summary: A collection of Marcellia one-shots, with a theme.





	1. Cloaks

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping that this will kick off a series of short Marcellia pieces, because I love them so and it's honestly high time I contributed to the fandom. :p All of them will follow the same timeline, just a vague sort of AU where Marcia and Marcellus got together shortly after the events of Fyre. They won't be in chronological order, just whatever I feel like writing at whatever point in their relationship.
> 
> First up is a general setting-the-scene story, based around my headcanon about Alchemie and ExtraOrdinary cloak mix-ups. Not much shippy content for now I'm afraid, but I'll be sure to pick up the slack in later chapters!

Marcia had had a bad feeling about the day ahead the moment she woke up on the Castle Alchemist's sofa.

She understood, of course, that she was partially responsible for the events that had caused this to occur; but reasoning it out with herself as she turned off Snake Slipway didn't do anything to dispel her paranoia. It certainly didn't help to know that even at this hour, there could easily be someone awake in an upstairs window who might recognise her.

And anyone who did would talk, of course - though all Marcia was truly guilty of was dozing off, as she and Marcellus had sat curled up and chatting far too late into the night.

(She had a vague recollection of coming to a short while afterwards, just enough to realise that Marcellus was draping a blanket over her. The memory was hazy enough that the kiss on her forehead might have been her imagination).

Really, Marcia shouldn't have been in this situation at all. She knew better. Better than to have given into impulse that night in the Pyramid Library and kissed Marcellus; better than to have let herself be pulled along into... whatever that kiss had sparked off, and better than to make said _whatever_ into something that felt so illicit simply for existing.

She _certainly_ knew better than to have spent an entire night asleep at Snake Slipway. But knowing better now didn't change the fact that she had.

Besides, Marcia didn't want to know better in this particular case. Whenever she found herself mulling over the evidence that she was doing things wrong, her thoughts came out sounding remarkably like her mother's voice. She almost felt like a girl again, standing in her family's tiny rooms in the Ramblings on the receiving end of a lecture.

It was a wonderful tonic for her second thoughts - Marcia's reaction to such lectures had invariably been a rude hand gesture and a great deal of shouting.

And so she found herself still sneaking off to Snake Slipway, after a month.

'Sneaking' being the operative word; to Marcia's knowledge, neither she nor Marcellus had told anyone about their... arrangement. Given the high profile positions both she and Marcellus occupied, Marcia really wasn't keen on making their relationship public knowledge. She knew Marcellus disagreed - and it was strangely annoying to find that that didn't much annoy her at all.

Marcellus' view on the matter had surprised her at first, though. For such a normally private person, he was remarkably reluctant to keep this particular secret.

Marcia sometimes wondered if that had anything to do with his previous life, before the Alchemie Disaster - but would invariably catch herself, not wanting to dwell on events that occurred five centuries or so before she'd even been thought of. Contemplating that aspect of... _seeing_ Marcellus still made her feel a little odd.

But she'd take a little oddness, on balance, considering how happy this change in events had made her.

So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that Marcia made it halfway down Wizard Way before she noticed the morning chill. Shivering faintly, she drew her cloak in tighter - then cast a furtive glance around to check that no early risers were taking note of the ExtraOrdinary Wizard making her way _towards_ the Tower at such an hour.

Her gaze lingered on Larry's Dead Languages longer than anywhere else, just to double check for twitching curtains.

Perhaps, in retrospect, it would've been better to linger at Snake Slipway until a more reasonable time of morning. (And say goodbye to Marcellus properly, instead of hurrying off, Marcia thought with a twinge of guilt). At least then she could've returned without people assuming she'd been away all night... but that would have meant explaining her absence to Septimus. So much of this thing with Marcellus was uncertain; but above all else, Marcia worried about her Apprentice's reaction.

Perhaps it was cowardly to leave even him out of the loop - mishaps like the one she was living now increased the odds of Septimus finding out through gossip around the castle. Which would, no doubt, end up wildly exaggerated, and only make sure that he responded badly.

As she ascended the front steps of the Wizard Tower, Marcia came to a decision. Just as soon as Septimus woke up for the day, she would sit him down and explain this situation. It would be awkward and undoubtedly difficult to say, but she owed him that much.

She hoped, most likely in vain, that he wouldn't ask _too_ many questions.

Nerves thus steeled, Marcia rode the spiral stairs up to the top and stepped off outside her door, without allowing herself to worry about it further. This whole thing was sure to only get messier as it went on - but, she was determined, it would be a good kind of mess, or it would face the wrath of Marcia Overstrand.

She still opened the door very slowly, willing it not to creak. Things would work out best if she could sneak to her bedroom, then greet Septimus later once he -

"Marcia?"

Septimus, it seemed, was already awake. Wrapped in the large patchwork blanket that had been Sarah's gift to him last birthday, and clutching a slice of half-eaten toast, he blinked sleepily at his mentor standing startled in the doorway.

"Septimus, I"- Marcia started to say - but stopped short at the look of utter confusion that had crept across her Apprentice's face.

"Marcia, is that... is that an _Alchemist's_ cloak?"

With a growing sense of dread, Marcia glanced downwards; taking in not her usual purple attire, but a length of red and black. Apparently, in her rush to return home, she'd grabbed the wrong cloak as she left.

Of _course_.

Well, she supposed, at least there was no way to back out of talking to Septimus now.

 


	2. Slippers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, more fluffy this time, and with some proper Marcellia content!

MidWinter Feast Day had arrived, bringing with it a fresh fall of snow that Marcia watched Septimus disappear into; as he headed off down Wizard Way to celebrate his birthday at the Palace. She'd already given him her present, and would be joining him later, along with Beetle and a few other guests - but for now, it was purely a Heap thing.

  
So Marcia stood at the sitting room window, nursing a mug of coffee as the small green dot that was Septimus vanished behind a curtain of white.

  
Once the snow was too thick to see her Apprentice anymore, Marcia retreated to her sofa. (Her new sofa - but the day after tomorrow, she thought contentedly, she'd have the old one back as well). She settled back against the cushions, eyes on the fire in the grate as she sipped her drink; but she wasn't allowed to sit there for long before a knock sounded at her door.

  
Out on the landing, Marcia found Marcellus waiting. His expression had an edge of nervousness to it, and his hands were clasped behind his back. Marcia wordlessly gestured him inside; once the door was shut, she greeted him with a kiss, which seemed to dispel some of the tension in his features.

  
“Did you see Septimus on your way here? He just left.”

  
Marcellus shook his head. “The snow was too thick to see much of anything, really. Although I did notice a couple of the Ordinary Wizards giving me odd looks on my way up here.”

  
“At least it wasn't any of the ghosts this time,” said Marcia, rolling her eyes. “You know one of them tried to lecture me the other day? They're not supposed to do that, not to the current ExtraOrdinary - but apparently, the prospect of the Tower letting Alchemie across its threshold means etiquette goes out the window.”

  
“Imagine how they'd react if they knew I wasn't even here on official business,” Marcellus muttered, and Marcia gave a snort of laughter.

  
“What business are you here on, then?”

  
“Something much more pleasant.” Marcellus took a deep breath, before finally drawing his hands out from behind his back. He was holding a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper.

  
“Happy MidWinter Feast Day, Marcia.”

  
As Marcia, slightly awkwardly, opened her mouth to respond, he continued in a bit of a rush: “I know it's not as widely celebrated anymore - and the gift tradition is… well… ancient. But I'm afraid by the time that registered, I'd already ordered them. So at the risk of offending you…”

  
He held out the box towards her, and Marcia accepted it as a small smile replaced her previous tense expression. This wasn't the strangest Time Slip she'd known Marcellus to experience. And it certainly wasn't an unwelcome one, if she got a gift out of it.

  
“Well, I wouldn't want to offend _you_ by not accepting it,” Marcia teased, and Marcellus’ shoulders slumped with relief. She took a few steps backwards and sat back down on her sofa, mindful of the coffee mug by her feet. Marcellus joined her as she plucked at the string tied on top of the box.

  
Admittedly, on top of making Marcellus feel at ease, she _really_ wanted to know what he'd bought her.

  
Her answer came first in a flash of purple, when she removed the lid. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper was a patch of vividly-coloured, quilted silk. More than a little excited, Marcia peeled back the tissue - and squeaked, almost dropping the gift. Marcellus gave a slightly startled laugh.

  
“If I hadn't heard that with my own ears, I would never have believed it could come from you.”

  
Marcia sat up straighter and cleared her throat in a bid to regain her composure.

  
“Good. That means nobody will believe you if you dare tell anyone.”

  
“My lips are sealed.” Marcellus grinned.

  
That prompted Marcia to give a considering hum, as an idea occurred to her.

  
“I think I'd like to test that for myself,” she said - before leaning across, cupping the back of Marcellus’ head, and kissing him soundly.

  
He made an appreciative sound at that; and as he stretched an arm out to loop around Marcia's waist, his elbow caught the box and sent it tumbling to the floor. Concerned, Marcellus broke away and made a half-hearted grab for the gift, seeming to realise he wasn't going to reach it.

  
Marcia tracked the box’s descent - but far from being worried, she held the collar of Marcellus' tunic as he made to stand up and dragged him back down to her.

  
“They're lovely, Marcellus, but they'll be fine on the floor.”

  
The Alchemist took his seat again, looking highly amused about something.

  
“... What is it?”

  
“I've never known you to prioritise much over your shoes.”

  
Marcia laughed.

  
“Well, they're not exactly shoes. And besides, it just shows how much… you… matter to me. Take it as a compliment.”

  
“If you insist,” Marcellus smiled - taking the initiative as well as the compliment, and leaning in for another kiss.

  
Down on the floor next to Marcia's sofa, the box had fallen onto its side. A frill of tissue paper spilled from within; and lying beside it, having spilled out onto the rug, lay a purple silken slipper. It and its twin were exquisitely made: quilted on the outside, stitched with silver embroidery, and lined with soft, fine fur. Terry Tarsal, who had of course been the one to make them, was particularly proud of these shoes - and had charged a handsome price for them.

  
The other quality of note about them was that the toes tapered to long - bordering on ridiculous - points, in a style some five hundred years out of date. A style that Marcia considered rather beautiful, despite its age.

  
Beautiful though the slippers might have been, however, they were also destined to lie forgotten next to the sofa for the near future.


	3. Spectacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one this time, I'm afraid - hope you guys still like it!

It was in a slightly ungainly fashion that Marcellus clattered through the doorway of his sitting room, and with a slight squint that he regarded his... well. He didn't really know what to call her at this point in time, other than - 

"Marcia? Have you seen my glasses?"

The ExtraOrdinary Wizard had been poring over some Alchemie notes that Marcellus himself had left on a side table. She glanced up at his question, opened her mouth to reply - then blinked. After which, her face split into an odd sort of smile. 

"I think they were around here somewhere," she said slowly. "Are you sure"- 

What Marcellus ought to be sure of, he didn't stick around to find out. Still with a slight squint, he veered off down the hallway towards the next door - frowning as the toe of his shoe caught on a bump in the carpet. In normal circumstances he might have spotted that, but Marcia, like Septimus and Simon, had expressed concern for the amount of candles he kept lit around the house; and unlike Septimus, she had decided to act on her concern. The Tincture of Youth hadn't quite been enough to save Marcellus' eyesight - and he did _not_ fare well in dim light. 

He had, however, begrudgingly conceded that the potential of setting oneself on fire was a greater risk to one's health than reduced visibility. 

"Marcia?" Marcellus called over his shoulder as he shuffled off again, "do you think you could double check the sitting room for me? I'm sure I had them when I went downstairs, but..." 

To his surprise, she responded with what sounded like a splutter of suppressed laughter. It was followed by the muffled noise of pointy purple boots on carpet - puzzled, Marcellus turned around to face Marcia. 

"Are you not going to"- 

Wordlessly, Marcia reached out towards his face; Marcellus blinked in confusion as her hands settled on either side of the top of his head. 

He then blinked several more times in rapid succession when something landed on his nose, and the face of the woman before him snapped into much sharper focus. 

Marcia chose that moment to drop a kiss on the end of his nose; right in front of where the bridge of his glasses had just fallen. Marcellus didn't blink, that time - continuing to watch her in faint, wide-eyed surprise. Marcia's own eyes danced with amusement as she took Marcellus' hands in hers. 

"You could've just told me, you know," the Alchemist grumbled. 

"I did try," said Marcia, smiling. "It's not my fault you ran off before I could get a word in." 

That earned her a sigh. "I suppose not. I could've sworn I'd put them down somewhere..." He paused, looking hopeful.

"I don't suppose I'd save face by blaming this on a Time Slip?" 


End file.
